


You is gunna be something great

by Frankielovesballet



Category: Sherlock (TV), The Help - Kathryn Stockett
Genre: Kid!Lock, Other, Sad!John
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-16
Updated: 2013-11-16
Packaged: 2018-01-01 17:58:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1046860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Frankielovesballet/pseuds/Frankielovesballet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock comforts a disheartened John</p>
            </blockquote>





	You is gunna be something great

**Author's Note:**

> Because when you're bored out of your mind in English, the only thing to do is write adorableness

_Perhaps I should have waited until the nursery teacher was off work before interviewing her_ Sherlock thought as he picked dried paint off of his new suit jacket and shook glitter out of his hair. He fully expected to get John to order some Pad Thai (he thought he might actually eat it) and settle himself for a night of Mind Palace reorganization. What he did not expect was to find John lying on his thinking couch with a pillow over his face. His shoes were still on, as were the flat lights. He was obviously upset about something. But there were no mugs in the vicinity so he was really upset about something, too upset to make tea. From the state of his shoes, (all scuffed up at the toes) it had to do with work. John's voice cut through his thoughts before he could get any further.

“Lost a patient today. Five years old; anaphylaxis to a flu shot. Totally unexpected. I mean, what are the chances?”

“About one in-“

“One point five million, I know.” He groaned and turned to face the back of the couch. Sherlock’s mind processed all possible ways to continue before coming up with an acceptable one. He made his way to the couch and knelt down by the back of John’s head. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, trying to find the right words. “I – it’s not your fault John." he said softly. "You couldn’t have known.” He cast about for something else to say.

_Suddenly, Sherlock was three again and running away from the older boys who had pushed him over while they shouted ‘Freak!’ He looked around for his nanny and spotted her as she came towards him with outstretched arms. He barreled into her head first, suffocating comfortably in her bosom. She picked him up and carried him to the bench where she had been knitting._

_“Come here. Oh my baby. Don’t cry, I got you.” Her southern American accent was soothing and Sherlock’s sobs quieted into soft hiccups. He rubbed at his cheeks and nose and wrapped his arms around her neck. A hand stroked his wild curls as his breathing evened out. "You listen to me," she said. "And don't you listen to them. You is kind. You is smart. You is important. You is gunna be something great, so don't go minding them 'cus they just don't see that yet."_

"John, look at me." The lump refused to move. "Fine," Sherlock sighed. "I'm not saying this again. You are kind, you are smart and you are so important. Don't ever convince yourself otherwise." When it didn't seem that there would be a response he rocked back on his heels and stood up. Then, so quietly he wasn't sure he actually heard it.

"Thank you."


End file.
